


The Hoffman Entries

by areneecz



Category: Saw (Movies)
Genre: Age, Age Difference, Awkward Flirting, BDSM, Blood, Blood and Gore, Bondage, F/M, Flirting, Gore, Implied/Referenced Torture, Insert, Light BDSM, Light Bondage, Loss, Loss of Limbs, Mild Gore, Minor Original Character(s), Office, Office Sex, Original Character(s), Poison, Poisoning, Sacrifice, Self-Insert, Self-Sacrifice, Sex, Sexual Tension, Tension, Torture, Uniform Kink, Uniforms, Vaginal, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Weapons, Weapons Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-09
Updated: 2018-01-23
Packaged: 2019-01-31 05:23:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12675258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/areneecz/pseuds/areneecz
Summary: A collection of entries from a newly recruited member of Mark Hoffman's department.





	1. Entry One

The room sat silently, wheezing and groaning with the weight of pre-built machinery, experiments and ideas built into reality, traps. Everyone knew Jigsaw, knew his games, his motto, his life, everyone thought they had escaped him, free to live in a world without kidnappings and the outcome of the mastermind's brutal "games." A game, games are usually simple, easy, and have an ending, a winning point, a prize, possibility, his did not. John Kramer, age 52, and old man ripe with intelligence, mind shrouded with the potential loss of himself with undetected cancer quickly forming, life was changed, flipped, an error made, a mistake sat uncorrected, that was all it took to change John's life, and mind, forever.

Jigsaw was born, the nickname the police and FBI had assigned to him managed to stick, with the way he tortured his victims, finishing them off by carving out a slick swatch of flesh in the shape of a puzzle piece, it was his signature, his autograph, an imprint left behind. He had a story of his own, a life that shaped his future outcome, the loss of his child, the disinformation of his cancer, and the car crash he had lived through, ultimately, he made it out, but in the process of making it out, a different person escaped. 

"Agent (Y/N)." Hoffman called, eyeing the new recruit as he tiredly scratched at his face, chin free of any prickles or hairs, freshly shaved and tamed, he eyed the younger detective, confused with the state of the FBI to hire someone so young for a case so vile, it was odd. "Welcome." He finally admitted, offering a warm hand forward as he waited for her to shake it. 

"I was newly recruited." The young woman called. Tossed into Hoffman's board, taken under his wing, taught his ways, her eyes looked down to his hand, larger in comparison, finally, she gave him a smile and accepted his welcoming handshake. The one thing that went unnoticed between the two was the fact of her being a long lasting survivor of Jigsaw himself, John had helped her erase an entire existence, start over. As she thought she was led down the crowed hallway of the department to Hoffman's office, eyes looking over the images that passed by.

"Newly recruited?" Hoffman smiled, pocketing his hand momentarily as he reached for the the familiar key chain holding his office key hostage, the man shook his head contently as he let a small chuckle pass, the two both had a secret, a life not spoken of inside the department, both had the potential of being fired if others ever learned of their hidden acquaintance. Hoffman was a snake, sneaky and deadpan, his face was stone cold, he refused to reveal anything, played it safe and topped everyone while doing so, as the office was entered the door was closed behind, set in place with an echoing lock as Hoffman trailed back to his seat. "So desperate that the FBI had to hire a twenty year old to solve a case they still haven't?" He teased, offering a wink to the younger accomplice. 

"Do you think a twenty year old is incapable of such a job, sir?" She announced, standing by the door, stance stiff but relaxed. A smirk snuck its way across her face, controlling her lips as she gazed at the older gentleman in front of her. Her eyes followed him as he sat behind the desk, leaning back in his chair, the distinct squeak of springs audible. The young women made herself comfortable, sick of standing she sat, pressed into a plush chair in front of the oak wood desk littered with random items and trinkets. A picture caught her eye, a woman with deep black hair and a beautiful complexion. "Wife?" She questioned. 

"It will be a challenge." Hoffman replied, lips pursed on the cusp of a smile as he nodded a sad no in reply to the analysis of his framed memories, his eyes momentarily drifting to the glass picture-frame of his sister, lingering for a minute before returning to her. He was a sly motherfucker, that was obvious, but she had her information, her research. "But I never said you were incapable, darling." He added, a sweet name escaping his lips as he noticed the shift in pigment, the newly added hue to her flesh as she sat before him, hands furled together nervously. 

"I see." She replied, her eyes avoiding his steely green ones, his stare felt as if it could burn a hole directly through. She shifted uncomfortably in her chair, attempting to change the subject, with a slight smile she blurted out a reply. "So, when do I start?" She called, the sudden change in demeanor surprising him, causing a smile to form envelope the two. 

"Anytime." Hoffman pursed, shrugging his shoulders as he sat forward. Again, the chair creaked in response to the shifted weight applied, the man was mysterious, a challenge, a puzzle no one could possibly figure out. "Currently all available positions have been filled." He added, strumming his fingers through a yellow paper portfolio, flipping through papers in an attempt to locate his sheet, a list of names, hands furling through papers, taking hold of a single sheet as he quickly read through, eyes following the names as he read. "The department failed to inform me of a new recruit." Hoffman continued, eyes leaving the paper to return to the person before him. "Time's yours for now, I suppose." He finished, offering a kind smile in place of a wink, an awkward silence filling the room as the two quietly sat across from each other. 

"Alright." She smiled, shaking her head with a nod. Standing up from the seat she fixed her outfit, fabric snug around her small frame as she turned her attention back to Hoffman. He placed the portfolio back into its respectful place before turning back to her, in union she held out her hand to the male in front of her. "It was nice to meet you then, Detective." She cooed softly, giving him a sweet smile while awaiting a returning handshake.

"Nice to meet you too." Hoffman purred, taking hold of the small hand as he shook it warmly, fingers and muscles tensing in his grasp as she stood bravely, the taller man passed her momentarily before backtracking, leaning down to ear level he spoke, a low and humming tone that tickled the every fiber of her being, a low and guttural tone, a single hands pulled through the frilly fabric of her sleeve, picking at the fibers as he smiled into the curve of her face. "Be careful, darling, never know who you can trust." He finished, emitting a small dry chuckle as he finally departed, walking away, passing her figure and darting into the hallway as she was left behind. Alone, standing she felt the cold draft of Hoffman's disappearance.


	2. Entry Two

The office was cold and dark as the rush of brisk morning air ran through the dark and damp hallways. The department always had a familiar feel, a familiar smell of yellowing portfolios and forgotten cases, carpets harsh and rough against bustling feet, towering boxes of folders and paper-clipped collections of documents. Alone, Hoffman sat, his door open wide for other passing employees to take notice, he sat silently, reading through receipts of John Kramer's existence, his identity, every area he had been spotted, every store he had ever visited, they had it all, with a warm cup of coffee he worked, sipping at his drink as he mumbled to himself quietly. Another buzzing soul had also come into work early due to Hoffman's complete control, making her way into his office, she lightly knocked on his door, waiting for him to look up from what he was currently doing, her bag was held close, filled with files given to her the day prior.

"No need to knock." Hoffman answered, not even bothering to look away from his research as he ushered the young women forward, bounding in she stepped close, furling (H/C) hair falling over her shoulders as she placed her suitcase to the side of the armchair. Hoffman was a mouse, a snake, a charmer, he had the looks and the attitude, and damn, if he didn't have every women in a ten mile radius falling for him, he was a piece of beautifully perfected work. But other than that, he seemed familiar, quiet, reclusive, he was silent, a face that had obviously undergone true terror, true torment, before. He had something about him, something that she couldn't yet figure out. "Did you come in early for a little private one on one with yours truly?" Hoffman snickered as he teased the younger women, in reality, he just liked to see how far he could push, how red her skin would get, how much she would take, it was entertaining.

"Well." She recoiled, eyes narrowing as she looked to the much older gentleman in front of her, his teasing gaze boring into her. She took a seat across from him, left leg crossing over right, swallowing down the lump in her throat as she gave him a flirty smirk, "What would you say if I did?" She responded with a soft coo.

"I'd probably tell you to lock the door." Hoffman smirked, smile growing wider as he continued his assault, sly words and teasing personality causing an uproar in the room. He was good, very good, in every aspect and every way. Eyeing the younger women he leaned forward, pressing closer to the wooden desk as he looked her over, eyes traveling to the less than revealing outfit she had adorned that day, it was ravishing, to say the least, eyes lazily taking their time eating the young women away, sliding over every nook and cranny as slow as they possibly could. "These walls are sound proof, you know." He added with a growling whisper, tension rising as he bathed in the absence of all other detectives from the office.

"Is that so, Detective?" She replied with an eyebrow raise and a soft sultry giggle, leaning closer to him she smirked, her eyes looking him over, every feature in his face was perfectly constructed as if the god's had crafted it. "How are you so sure?" She whispered, a tone so low it almost went unnoticed.

"My memories a bit foggy, love." Hoffman replied with a growing smirk, a hand bobbing underneath the desk to grip onto his own thigh, with a silent choice he stood, standing from his office chair as he circled the table to gain access. Leaning his weight against the desk as he stood adjacent from the young women, feet crossing below as he eyed her up close. "We should try it out, just to be sure, don't you agree?" He added, eyes slitting as he checked her out, a groping stare evolving into a smile as he refused reluctance.

"My, my." She beckoned, eyes looking up to his towering frame, her nerves felt as red hot, set on fire from every move, every glance he sent her way. Letting a sigh pass between her lips, she tried to calm herself, no doubt about it, this was wrong, so wrong; but it felt so right. Her mind grew fuzzy as she tried not to slip into the web that he had weaved, she tried her best to remain calm. "Such a scandalous idea, sir." She purred out.

"Tease." Hoffman commented, stepping in as he erased all space between the two, heat growing, enveloping as the space grew hotter with every word spoken, breath close and sharp. Hands grazed the underside of her chin as fingers gripped the hot flesh of her face, turning the object in his hand as he examined her up close, her features bright and prominent, beautiful, mind-boggling. Without a second thought he tugged sharply, pulling in her small frame as he pressed his lips to hers. A silence filled the room as the echoing clasp of lips remained as the only audible noise, pulling away he stared at her with drunken intoxication, a purr of delicacy. "Is that all you are?" He questioned with a growing smirk. She was taken by surprise, blinking a few times as she gazed up at him, lips parted slightly as if to form words; nothing came out. She was too flushed, too embarrassed to do anything, and at that moment she had realized that she had broken under the sly detective's whim.

Silence flooded the room as the taller man ordered the women to stand, without a word, she obeyed. Leaving her belongings behind as she followed the towering man through a collection of crowded and quiet hallways, locked doors quickly subdued with a collection of pocketed key cards the detective had on-hand, rooms the other had barley seen, rooms hidden from the regular eye of a new employee, following the bypass her eyes trailed to the plastic sign before the room, the evidence depository, a locker of tools hidden away to put ruthless criminals behind bars. Without a word, she continued, led astray into the dark room as a warm hand curled around her wrist, leading her through the darkness. A pitch black void coated her eyes as she let the well-informed man lead her. Silence, the only audible noise apart from the clink and hiss of metal on metal, the cold grip of embracement. Heaving breaths escaped her lips as she felt the dragging touch of soothing hands. Suddenly, the room flickered into existence, lighting up as bright white blinded her momentarily, the first image to come into view was the wide grin of the detective as he stood back admiring his work. Finally, she noticed, she stood entangled, handcuffs holding her hostage against the frame of one of the countless traps of Jigsaw they had managed to confiscate.

"Detective?" She cooed, fear and desire filling her, eyes meeting with his as he flashed a devilish grin. Looking down to the trap she was held onto a thought she wanted to let out had escaped her lips in the form of a question. "What do you plan on doing to me?" She asked, eyes scanning over the trap she stood connected to, admiring it's impressive steadiness, it was Jigsaw's trap, she was quite familiar with it but Hoffman had no need to know, she had helped with this beauty of work before but never knew that she would end up having it used against her in such a lewd way.

"Whatever I want." Hoffman purred, a warm guttural groan escaping his lips as he looped his arms around the young women's waist, fingers latching underneath the frilly elastic of her clothing as he tugged at the fabric, unsheathing her form as he left the material to lazily fall down the length of her legs. With delicate touches he unbuttoned her expensive work shirt, fingertips ghosting over the flesh of her breasts as she let a gasping moan of breath rush from her tingling lips. Falling to his knees the detective let a single arm raise, latching it underneath the elastic of her underwear as he prepared her, eyes ghosting to hers to notify, with his free hand, he brought it up to his mouth, fingers parting as his tongue lolled out in-between. "Would you like that?" He commented, a smirk growing behind his fingers as he took in the burning shade of her flesh. Her eyes fluttered closed, skin burning like fire from such an assault, she was gone, so far gone into his game that she couldn't turn back. Her breathing grew labored watching his shameful gesture, her body shuttered at the thought of what he was about to do, she gathered all her courage and nodded, weakness failing her as her voice fell short.

"I've always wondered what you taste like." Hoffman grinned as he jutted forward, without warning, his face darted in-between her legs, face brisk and hairy, a tickle of chin hairs on her thighs as an exploring tongue worked it's magic, licking at every inch of her willing form, darting into foreign areas. He was good, he knew how to work her, where to hit, and where to tease. Lips ghosting and grinding against sensitive skin as his hands found their way to her hips, gripping onto the flesh as his fingertips faded into a brisk white of utter control. Pulling away he eyed her, always eyeing her, never breaking eye contact as he shifted on his knees, standing up as he wrapped a hand around her neck, free hand disappearing, darting below as the echoing tug of an unzipped zipper filled the room. "Are you sure you can handle me?" He purred, giving himself a few fateful strokes as his green slits eyed her intensely.

"Yes." She replied, she was shaking, shaking with pure lust and desire for Hoffman, for the detective. She could give less than a damn of what he had in store for her as she tugged at her restrains as occasional gasps left her lips as his grip around her small neck grew tighter, nerves shuttering in anticipation. "Yes I can." She continued, eyes remaining locked with his, she failed to tear away from his piercing gaze no matter how hard she tried.

"I knew you could." Hoffman teased, offering a wink in the women's direction as he smoothed his fingers over his quickly swelling cock tip. The figure before him shuttered, the rhythmic sound of saliva on skin filling the room as he prepared them both, easing his way in as he patiently worked the skin, refusing to selfishly make the experience pleasurable for only himself, he wanted her to feel everything he did to her. With a crooked smile he pushed forward, growing on the edge of impatience as he buried himself, disappearing quickly his legs jutted, shivering forward as he kept his balance, hands on her as he finally moved, a back and forth motion, thrusting as he danced his fingers against her jawline, staring her straight in the eyes as he ravished her. "You like that?" He hummed, voice deep and intoxicating, dripping with pleasure.

"God, yes." She mumbled, a soft whimper audible, her muscles tightening with his every movement. Her head tilted back, indulging in the given pleasure, mouth half open as a steady supply of moans slipped out, her legs shaking with every pulsing feeling recieved. "Yes!" She shouted, it was all she could say, all she could muster.

"I do say." Hoffman huffed, words lost, intertwined as he continued on his rampage, movements growing in pace and effort as his swollen length was teased. Legs bent, at the perfect angle as he pulled the willing women closer, sweaty and harsh, the touches grew in intensity until a final cease was reached, a shared climax as the two worked together. "This is a beautiful display." He teased, pulling free felt heinous, a tease against her every being as she fought through her own pleasurable waterfall. The cocky detective shook in his own grasp as he rubbed out the final rounds of his own orgasm, musky white fluid pouring over his fingers and splattering against the stone cement floor below, a smile turning his pouting lips as their eyes finally met.

"Shit." She cursed, slick sweat shining upon her skin, lips swollen from the assault given to them by the rough man before her, wrists decorated with purple from the many times she'd tugged to run her fingers through Hoffman's soft chocolate locks, just to tug them and hear him groan. Such a sin that should not have been committed, a sweet sin within the four walls of the room of evidence. She looked into his beautiful eyes, cheeks littered with the light color of pink, voice coming out as a breathy whine turned whisper. "You don't say?" She mimicked with a tired chuckle.

"I believe I did most of the work." Hoffman scoffed, eyeing the women as he stepped back. Fixing himself as he shoved his flaccid length away, zipping his pants to re-shield. Pulling away from the abused women he smirked, eyeing her naked form as he stepped away, fingers combing through his hair as he let a sigh of relief escape his lips, he completed his task, fulfilled his role, and did what he had to do. Digging in his pocket he pulled a single key free, shiny and glinting in the florescent light, he spun the single tool in the grasp of his fingers like a spooling line of twine, tossing the object to the floor with a sharp interjection as he watched it fall before her. "I think you can get yourself down, love." He finally ushered, sending a wink in her direction as he paraded from the room, footsteps echoing on the linoleum floor as the sly detective disappeared.

"Tch." She gritted, she was shocked, he left her there, exposed and confined. What a sly man he was, cocky was an understatement. Her eyes trailed down to the small object laid out in front of her, narrowing her eyes she reached out with her right leg, her foot pointed out to pull the key over to her. She could hear the audible echo of the door to the evidence room closing, following with a flicker of lights, leaving her in darkness. "Bastard." She hissed between gritted teeth.

Hoffman knew how to push her buttons, but he knew how to push them the right way.


	3. Entry Three

The following morning was cold and bitter, winter weather doing it's part to make the entirety of the FBI department as miserable as possible. Stalking the empty hallways a single familiar figure eyed the colorful display of plastic shelf's pocketing different assortments of paper-clipped portfolios. She was back, her third day on the sight of a very different job then she had imaged it to be. Hoffman was a tease, the was obvious, but was it just an act, did he do it, use the same act with every new female recruit? Collecting her belongings, the (H/C) haired women turned the corner, eyes falling on the crisp and ironed suit of her superior as his pouting, pink lips fell atop the brim of his coffee cup as he took a lingering sip. 

"Not as early as yesterday, I see." Hoffman teased, pecking his eyes up momentarily to eye his accomplice before returning to his assorted pile of papers. Atop she could see a singular logo, the logo of the infamous Jigsaw, pictures and snapshots of current victims. "First case outside of the office." He added, thumbing through the photos as he placed his cup to a paper coaster. "Are you sure you can handle it?" Hoffman recited, a familiar sentence from the night before creating a bubbling blush on her pale cheeks.

"Yes." She muttered with embarrassment, a blush spreading deeper across her face as his phrase echoed its way through her ears, clearing her throat she nodded. "Yes I can." She assured him, looking up to his piercing gaze. Today felt different, a lot different from before, when she had first started. Was it because of the previous events of the night previous that had taken a hold on her? Or was it that he was acting like he had never done a single thing to her? She went with the second option and gave her head a skeptically shake.

"Good." Hoffman scoffed, a sour look as his face as he collected his things. Pushing them into a pile the taller detective grouped his stack, pulling the papers into his arms as he deposited them into a nearby filing cabinet. His attitude had changed, shifted, somersaulted a complete 180, it was strange and a little aggravating, like he had gotten what he wanted, settled his craving, and now, he was satisfied, done, full. "Get a move on it." He called, locking his files away as he rose to his feet, pushing past the smaller detective as he darted into the hallway. "I'll be in the car." Hoffman added, pocketing his hands to search for the metallic tool. "And if you decide it's too much to handle, you can always stay here." He finished, a snort arising as he disappeared. 

Hoffman and her arrived at the display, another scene of gruesome crime from the infamous Jigsaw. She scouted around the dismembered body that lay motionless at her feet as the forensic team took photos and samples, glancing over to Hoffman who spoke to one of the other detectives that had managed to arrived before them, her eyes narrowed at he older male, he was starting to anger her. The scene was gruesome, deposits of flesh splattered against the wall, thin threads of muscle and skin connected the pieces to the now cold machinery, colorful spirals indicated that the machine was used to heat up and dispose, strings and puddles of blood, an arising stench in the room, the raw and awful smell of cooked flesh, burnt skin, hair, and bone. Only remaining and still intact were limbs, clumps. A single incision was made, the removal, the jigsaw piece that was stolen from each and every victim. It was a change for her, it wasn't a first, she had seen countless dead bodies before, but this, this wasn't Jigsaw, this was too messy and too sloppy to be Jigsaw. 

"Odd." Hoffman recoiled, returning to her with a small evidence baggie containing the familiar tape recorder and accompanying tapes, the thin white strips labeled "read me" now drenched with droplets of crimson. "This is, off." He added, pocketing the evidence as he pulled the rubber gloves from his swollen fingers. "I've read through hundreds of files, seen shit like this, too many times to count." Hoffman retorted, eyes returning to the scene as he pointed a quick finger to a questioning guard behind the group before returning. "This isn't John, this isn't Jigsaw." He finished with a pout. 

"And why do you say that, isn't that machine his work?" She asked with a questioning eyebrow, arms crossed over her chest. How could he so quickly figure it out just like that, that this scene was not of John Kramer's doing. She was confused, astonished. Shaking her head she started to retreat back to the car he had drove them there in, with a finally retort she softly mumbled to herself. "Ridiculous." She scoffed, this obviously had to be Jigsaw, or perhaps, an accomplice.

Returning to the station the office was quiet, Hoffman lurking away to hand in his evidence and talk with the major head of the FBI department while she returned to his office, questioning, pondering. Would she ever have an office of her own? Or would she forever remain one of Mark Hoffman's pawns? He had obviously sensed the shift in mood, the agitation in her voice when she left ever so quickly to return to the vehicle. Due to that, the ride was silent, returning with a quick park as he made his way to separate. Suddenly, the moment of silence and thought was broken, Mark, turning the corner, entered, shifting his weight into his seat as he pecked a uncapped pen into his mouth, hands busy flipping through papers as he seemed to momentarily ignore her existence completely, sliding over a paper, her attention was finally caught.

"Good first day." Hoffman commented coldly as he noticed her pick at the sheet of paper, picking it up to examine it briefly. "Due to emotional issues being brought into the case, points were, deducted." He added with a hidden smile, a growing smirk he could no longer keep hidden, he was confusing, to say the least. "Maybe next time." Hoffman smirked, sending a wink in her direction as he let a dry chuckle roll off his tongue. 

"Emotional issues?" She commented, narrowing her eyes at him. Her teeth gritting as she let out a soft growl. "What do you mean emotional issues?" She questioned, this man loved to toy with her, she was just a play thing to him, a chew toy; and he was the dog. She felt like he was taking advantage of her, using her, and for some odd reason she accepted it, grew to like it. The tension both had was thrilling, she enjoyed every minute of it, she was just as puzzling as he was. Her eyes searched his face as he continued to slyly smirk, her buttons pushed further and further."Just teasing, doll." Hoffman smiled softly, scribbling out the numbers the FBI had supplied him with, ultimately, they gave the initial grade, Hoffman was the final score, he chose what numbers went through, and what numbers didn't. With a fine tipped ball-point pen he scratched out the numbers, a collection of lowly ranked scores due to her age and size, with a quick scribble he dotted down a collection of nine's and ten's, a surprising turn of events, actually. He was, being nice? With a smile, he pushed the paper away, hidden into a folder later to be turned in and submitted. "You did well." He commented, placing the pen to the table as he stood, pacing the small area behind his desk as he flattened his tie. "Better than any other newbie, plus, you didn't throw up on the ride back, that's a considerate plus." He added with a proud purr, turning to his student, he closed in, stepping forward to gain leverage. 

"Really?" She retorted, a smile spread across her lips, a blush growing obvious. Hoffman was actually being nice to her for once instead of treating her, teasing her like she was a useless toy, play-thing. "Thank you sir!" She squeaked out excitedly, a giggle escaping in the midst of her excitement. 

"Perks of being head of the department." Hoffman winked, abusing his powers as he chose who to keep and who to rid the FBI of. It was nice, nice that he would do that, risk his job, his career for the betterment of his accomplices. Again, he stepped forward, closer than before as he pressed a single kiss to the skin of her forehead, pulling her into a strange embrace as he ruffled her hair, pulling his lips away, he smiled. "I see potential in you." He admitted, a sort of blush escaping as his cheeks flushed momentarily, he was quick to hide it, with a final retort, he turned, collecting his things as he left, pausing by the door to offer one final reply. "I see potential in us." He offered, a smooth compliment turned into a dorky reply, with his final offer, he disappeared, turning the corner as he left her, standing alone, flustered and proud.


	4. Entry Four

Another early morning shift. Today, on this day, events conspired a bit differently than the previous, arriving the atmosphere was the same, but for Hoffman, his attitude had undergone another change, another flip, another 180. He was warm and welcoming, a kind smile shaping his usually pouting lips, peachy hands combing through the collection of chocolaty brown hair atop his head, passing through the fluffy locks with ease. His work momentarily abandoned as he spent his early morning shift eyeing the young women before him, uttering waterfalls of compliments, barricades of crashing conjunctions formed to earn a reaction. 

"Should we take advantage of this early morning opportunity?" Hoffman teased, cocking an eyebrow as he brought a hand to the fabric sheath holding his pistol hostage, velcro holding the weapon in place as he danced his fingers lazily over the hard plastic exterior. "Entirely up to you, of course." He added, pulling at his face to wipe away any residue or left behind particles, she knew what Hoffman was hinting it, it was all he ever hinted at, he stood hovering, awaiting a reply from his accomplice. 

"Up to me you say?" She purred out, back facing him while she was doing her work of placing files away to their respectful places in the cabinets adjacent. She tried to ignore his suggestion but could not rid herself of the growing heat forming on her face. With a sigh of defeat she turned to the older detective. Crossing her arms over her chest she began to think of the her decision and a devious smirk appeared. "Well, it would make time go by a lot faster, now that I think of it." She added with a grin, turning away from him as she closed the filing cabinet that sat open, overflowing with papers, incidents due to the victims and criminals of past events. 

"Obviously." Hoffman hissed erotically, the grip on his weapon loosening as he pulled the tool from it's holster, a firm grip on the cold material as he aimed it at her head. An order at gunpoint, the taller detective had her pinned, slouched over the desk, back against the firm wood as nervous limbs tumbled precious knickknacks and pictures to the concrete floor. This wasn't a threat, this was a ruse, a tease, he would never shoot, even from where she sat, she could spot the safety, firmly in place, it was his kink, possibly, and maybe even hers. Waving the weapon in her face he closed in. "It'd be a shame to see that pretty little face go to waste." He purred in response, running the barrel of the gun over the goose-bumped patches of skin on her legs. A shudder went down her spine as she felt the cold material of the barrel against her skin. Her breathing labored and panicked as she followed his every movement. Her chest heaving up and down as the male towered over her smaller frame. 

The weapon was lewdly misused as the barrel worked it's way underneath the fabric sheathing her figure, sliding underneath the elastic and over hidden, sensitive areas. Hands overruled the scenario as two worked as one, free hand slipping underneath to take place of the barrel, and the other curled around the gun that dug into the flesh of her throat. Time was of no essence, this time kindness was no virtue, with eager hands Hoffman ripped at the fabric, tearing it in two with ease as he flashed a proud smile, fingers teasing at her swollen extremities, fingertips prodding at her wet and willing clitoris. 

"Last time was too quick." Hoffman barked, gun tight against her neck as fingers teased against the trigger, even with the safety, the revealed weapon was still alarming. Slamming the weapon against sore skin his fingers teased along the goosebumps on her stomach. "Too nice." He added with a growl, teeth barred as he teased her entrance, an evil smile shaping his lips as he held her hostage. 

"Mark." She groaned, a whine escaping her lips as the weapon was pressed deeper against her throat. Her entire body shuttering as she locked eyes with him. "Hoffman, I can't." She said, her voice low, a whisper. Her legs weak, shaking at his sudden pounce, attack. She was weak, vulnerable to the much larger male.

The gun was pulled free, momentarily absent before re-aliening with the center of her forehead, cold metal barrel gritty against the skin of her forehead. Standing, he tensed, leaning over her as his chest pressed against hers, firm and warm, the delicate smell of cologne and aftershave wafting from his skin, sliding the length of her chest his fingers pecked at plastic buttons, loosening the shirt as hands moved to cup her breasts. With a swift movement he lowered, nipple forced into his mouth, sucking on the flesh he grinned, twisting and turning the skin with his tongue, lips eager and willing as he fought against the shivers contorting her form. Silence flooded as the minutes passed, eyes and ears flushed with abandonment as the familiar echo of zippers filled the air, fingers sliding against his own form as Hoffman pulled his overcoat off, undershirt revealed, his firm and willing pecks pressed against the thin white material, abandoned weapon realigning as the safety was pulled back; now, she shivered. 

"Get on your knees." Hoffman ordered with a smirk, carelessly shaking the weapon in her face as he awaited movement, standing back to admire her as he kept the gun at eye-level, skin abandoned as he stood above, impatient and hungry, this was a different, a different Hoffman. "Do I need to repeat myself, sweetheart?" He added, a toothy grin warping his face as he looked at her with complete control, hunger, need. 

"Sir." She purred, looking to the gun in front of her, a thought, plan forming in the depths of her mind. As a distraction she raised her leg to his hip, hands running over his chest as she stared into his green eyes, placing her lips upon his strong jaw line. Without him knowing she glided her hand to his, armed with the silver weapon that the department had given to him. A smirk spread across her lips as she took hold of the cold device and disarmed Hoffman, the tables turning quite quickly to the detectives dismay. A laugh escaping her lips as he stared at her with shock as she pressed the gun to his side. Through gritted teeth she softly growled. "How about you get on your knees, Detective Hoffman?" She recited in tandem. 

With the detective pinned beneath her force she moved, eyeing the taller man as she ordered him forward, barrel aligned with his eyes as she cautiously led him to her lower extremities, strong hands gripped the base of her hips as a hungry mouth went to work, ordered to perform as he quickly ate away, tongue a slinking weapon as he harshly dragged it over the sensitive and swollen skin, the rift was obvious, it was thick, coating the room with a strange atmosphere, but Hoffman liked it, obvious due to quickly growing length sheathed away, with delicate and prying fingertips the object was freed, length swollen in her grasp as her eyes drifted back to the detective. 

"Dominance." Hoffman called as he writhed in your hand, teeth gritted as tension arose, a swollen vein protruding the underside of his length, it was torture to him, a fair fight, payback for his attitude, his actions. Bony knees pressed the man down further, helpless and weak underneath her as the barrel chaffed against his temple. "Intoxicating." He purred, the word rolling off his tongue as hazy green eyes kept constant contact. 

"So?" She began, a breathless laugh leaving her lips as she watched him, eyes locked on his larger form. The gun was removed from his temple as she stood up, a heeled foot placed upon his chest as she shoved him down to the concrete floor. She waved the weapon in front of him with interest as she thought about what she should do next. Being the huge tease that she was she ran her tongue from the bottom to the top of the cold pistol as her eyes bore into his, she felt his chest rise and fall from below her foot. She leaned down to him, the pressure on his chest gaining. "What do you think I should do to you?" She coaxed. 

Hoffman snorted at the example set before him, the image of pure power and control. For once he was content, happy to have someone other than himself doing all the work, happy to have to such a willing counterpart, it was a change, a good change. Hands furled to her sides as he took in her complexion, her form, stance, and utter beauty, cocking the weapon she aimed it forward, again lining it up with the sultry detective's gaze, he was ready, he was willing, they both were.

"Get a move on, girly." Hoffman purred, eyeing the women above him as he laid in complete solitude, awaiting a movement as he watched her work, time ticking away. "Time is of the essence." He added with a proud grin, awaiting movement as he watched somberly. 

With a sudden shift, she reacted, pulling Hoffman's cock free with a sudden smile, fingers working to align the extremity with her own. With a jolt, she was on, member forced deep inside, a rolling intoxication, a closeness not felt the time previous, a hunger, a craving needed to be soothed, a fight needed to be won. For once, she was on top, she was on her game, she was playing the role Hoffman had stuck to so diligently, and surprisingly, she liked it. 

"Don't call me girly." She purred, hips grinding to cause an aggravating friction. Letting her eyes narrow at the man below her, pressing the barrel of the gun underneath his chin as she let out a soft hiss. Her eyes scanned the smug look he adorned, movement beginning for the both of them, a sin committed behind closed doors. Her skin was flushed with the mixture of pink and red as she placed her free hand upon Hoffman's well built chest, her armed hand held the pistol against his feverish skin, causing goosebumps to form underneath as she railed down the tool to the spot where his heart sat. "What do you think, Detective Hoffman?" She questioned with a smirk. "What would happen if I pulled this trigger right now?" She whispered in his ear sensually, her finger playing with the trigger. One unknown fact to him; she had slipped the safety back on.

The continuous friction was torturous, a constant tease as the weight of the women above him played a key role in his undoing, as the girl performed with little to no attention payed, Hoffman took control, with a suffocating grip he pulled at the weapon, prying it from frail fingers, weight used as his inner extremities grinded with a heaving rotation. As the scene played out, he was on top, back in control as he tossed the gun across the room, metal clattering against cold stone, concrete, sliding away into the deep recesses of the room. Both hands falling to her as he lost all control and ease to keep calm, greedy palms taking complete control as he forced himself deeper, grunting with the movements as his teetered on the edge of release. 

"You need to learn a thing or two about obedience." Hoffman snarled hungrily, teeth barred as his hissed at the intimate grind of pleasure. He was angry, upset, worn down from constant teasing and lack of empathy, the same treatment he gave others, it was a change, but deep down, he liked it. "I suppose I'll have to teach you myself." He added with a grunt, hands falling to the cold material of table as he abused the willing hole beneath him. A cry left her body as Hoffman regained his control, eyes shutting tightly as he had no remorse. Lips parted every so slightly as air escaped with each and every movement the older male gave, her nerves on fire, his hand tightened around her as he continued his assault on her body. She felt as if she couldn't take anymore, her limbs began to shudder. She had no more words left, no more wise remarks as he had the upper hand.

"Compliance with an order, request." Hoffman lulled, spouting the definition of obedience whilst torturing his prey, jutting motions melting into tender scrawls, a reside reached as warmth flowed within, a humming stream of white sprayed across her bare chest as Hoffman stood proud, heartily pumping at his teased member to soak every inch of her sweating skin. Silence followed, filling the room as the man vanished momentarily, cleaning and sheathing his figure as he searched for his gun, scanning the floor until the tool finally caught his eye, grabbing the object, he rejected the safety, raising the tool with a deadly aim as he pulled the trigger. Air, warm and gusting as the bullet flew past, inches away from her skin as it pierced a filing cabinet directly behind her, an ear piercing shriek of abused metal as swirling spoke pooled from the barrel, with a gust it was cleared, blown away as Hoffman tucked the weapon away. "Amenability is what protects you from the bullet." He scoffed, task completed as he headed for the door, turning as he eyed the disheveled form behind him. "From my bullet." Hoffman purred, a smile, a twisted grin of giddy pleasure on his face as he eyed her distraught expression.


	5. Entry Five

Weekends. A few thankful long days away from work, away from Hoffman's antics. It was a surprise to her that the two of them hadn't been found out yet, how no one had managed to sniff out their, less than professional profession. Of course, she wasn't complaining, having a man like Hoffman all to herself was a less than manageable task, and he made sure to make it a challenge. Teasing, complaining, nit-picking comments and sly compliments, if he could think it, he would say it, he knew how to grind gears and push buttons. But now, now she had a few days off, a few days away from the office, away from Hoffman, and away from any more secluded grisly crime scenes of the infamous Jigsaw. Relaxing, what others called free time and leisurely activities, she thought more of it as wasted time, wasted potential of what could of actually been completed, of what activities could of filled the wasted hours, she had a poetic mindset and thought process to simple thoughts and problem sets, a key characteristic from John himself. As thoughts whirred and silence arose, the peaceful tranquility was broken by a single knock on the wooden material of her apartment door. Slinking to the entry-way, she reacted, pulling at the faded and dented metal handle, creaking gears reacting as the hallway was revealed, a familiar spreading smile filling the doorway. Hoffman. 

"Sir." She commented, dressed in comfortable clothes, a baggy t-shirt with fuzzy monkey pajama pants, she gazed up at the taller detective. Tilting her head with the slightest thought of confusion as to why he had decided, now, to show up at her door. "What are you doing here?" She asked, obviously annoyed since she was supposed to have two days off. Propping her hand onto her hip she awaited the detective's sly answer.

"(Y/N)." Hoffman retorted, a buzzing surprise to her, a change, a shock, hearing her own name ghosting from his snake-like lips as he pocketed his hand. Even on the weekend he still seemed to be suited up in his very best, or perhaps he never really took a day off. Fresh from the office he seemed to eye her, silent as he watched. A stare deep and prying, eyes that burned holes in her form. Silence. Flooding and cold as Hoffman stepped forward, one foot inside the small apartment and the other still peacefully planted in the hallway. "You have a very intriguing past." He purred confidently, a collection of folded documents pushed into the deep recesses of his pocket as he dared to spill her darkest secrets. "A direct relative to Kramer himself." Hoffman continued, a pout shaping his lips as he continued on his destructive path. "Something you forgot to mention, I assume?" He hissed with a glint of annoyance, a glint of determination. 

"Perhaps." She replied, taking a step away from the intimidating male. Narrowing her eyes at him her arms tensely crossed over her chest. She hissed back with more venom than him. "But I thought it not to be important, my private life is for me to know and you to be clueless about." She revealed, remaining poise as she blocked the doorway, not letting him fully enter her home without a proper invite.

"Pretty hard to be clueless when you leave your fingerprints at the crime scene." Hoffman called sharply, disposing of the documents as the papers spilled from his pocket, scattering to the wooden floor as the evidence appeared clear, a crystal clear confirmation of data and evidence. He was sly, smart, and damn, was he good. Wedging his foot he pressed it into the ajar space of the door, creating a blockade as he forced the grip she held away. Papers. Eyes returning to the collected parchment, pictures of her, information and evidence, a crystal clear mugshot of her from years prior. He dug deep, sexual distractions to keep her dull, to keep her off his trail. "You worked for John, and apparently, still do." He hissed with malice, a jealous hiss of aggravation, he was hiding something, but then again, so had she, with Hoffman, it was impossible to tell. 

"What do you plan on doing?" She questioned, keeping her eyes on him her heart began to race. He knew it, he uncovered her life, her deep dark secrets that she had tried so hard to keep hidden away. This was all too much for her to take in, panic slowly began to set in as she reached to any object, a weapon she could use held close by. "Now that you know?" She asked with curiosity lacing her voice, it was all too clear to that he had something planned.

"I plan to keep quiet, (Y/N)." Hoffman spit in response, eyeing the hand that slowly trailed to the the weapon she had concealed, he knew, but then again, he always knew, he was too good, too experienced to fall for simple ploys and tricks. Stepping forward he broke the small space in-between, kicking the door open fully as the wooden material cracked against the plaster dry-wall behind it, a harsh bark of material that caused a ringing aggravation to arise. "Only if you plan to do the same." He added with a sly smile, a look to the pile of documents she had been collecting, the evidence and clues Hoffman himself had been leaving behind, both attempting to pull the same ruse, the same trick on each other.

"Two pea's in a pod." She chuckled with a snarky stare, letting out a soft laugh. Her gaze never failing to leave his, expressions spoke where speech failed, green meeting (E/C) as the two internally melded. Silently Hoffman reacted, turning his form to tend to the carelessly ajar door, hands foolishly pushing the door with a twist of carelessness. "Aren't we?" She added with a cross of her arms, a smug chuckle as her lips pursed, a shaping expression of annoyance. 

"Stop playing coy." Hoffman retorted, kicking the documents at his feet aside as he continued to step forward. Annoyed with her constant teasing, constant comments, annoyed with the treatment he bestowed upon others. Hands fell to hips, digging for the bagged device as his eyes failed to leave, failed to fall prey to distraction. Pulling the device free with a crinkle of exit as the tape recorder from the evidence depository fell into his hands, a recent find from one of Jigsaw's countless crime scenes, inside sat a single working recorder accompanied with a set of tapes labeled with names, hers, and his. "Tell me why John left this at the last crime scene, out in the open so that I had to snag it before anyone else saw, now, why would he do that?" He questioned, rolling the bag in his palm as he handed it over to her with a careless toss that she effortlessly caught.

"How would I know?" She responded, raising her eyebrow as she made her way over to Hoffman, holding the bag in her hands she looked back down. "I have no idea, I'm not a mind reader." She roughly replied with a scoff as he made himself comfortable on her living room couch. She obviously was loosing patience at this point. But why would John leave labeled tapes out in the open knowing anyone could find it and trace them back to Hoffman and her? She couldn't tell. 

"I played them through." Hoffman noted, eyes falling upon her as he noticed the malice and aggravation in her voice, in her tone, radiating from her figure, it was quite obvious to him. With a slight twang of masked panic she handed the material's over, bag returning to Hoffman's grasp as he pocketed the evidence almost as quickly as he revealed it. "Noting of importance, really." He added with a curious twist, hand falling to his own face as he tapped at the skin of his cheek with pooling confusion. John, as mysterious and puzzling as he was, this wasn't something he rarely did, leaving behind obvious clues was a huge error in his eyes, so, any noticeable reason for the forgotten evidence was a clouded thought. "Same "cherish your life" and "make life worth living" bullshit he always preaches." Hoffman huffed, bag resting comfortably in his pocket as he sat back, feet propping up atop a nearby coffee table. His face read the truth, but something was still hidden, still buried, a secret was still yet to be told. "Interestingly, he left an address." He finished, eyes trailing to her as he let a noticeable and audible groan of aggravation arise. 

"What else?" She questioned, now interested on the words he was saying. An address? What address? She took a seat beside him on her couch and began to ponder, search through her thoughts. John must have done it for a reason, but what exactly was his true intention? She looked to Hoffman noticing the expression displayed on his face. "You're hiding something." She pondered, degrading questions as she continued on her rampage of intrusive questions. 

"Good little detective, aren't you?" Hoffman purred, a questionable response as his hands flattened the material of his own clothes, satin and smooth suit pants to accompany the rest of his attire. With an eye-roll and added snort, he reacted, pulling his feet from the table as he placed them to the rough and cheap material of the apartment carpet. "Nevertheless." He huffed, smoothing a hand through his collection of chocolate locks before responding. He was hiding something, and she was on the right track, what mattered was if or when Hoffman would spill. "John used a specific name on your tape." He revealed, secrets freed as he began to stand from the couch, his own hands pocketed as he took a short step forward. "Filia, root Latin for daughter." Hoffman finished, eyes falling upon her as his own smug demeanor faded, a glinting fear, a hidden terror buried beneath. 

"Hoffman." She ushered, she felt ashamed. It was true, she was John's daughter and hid it from everyone around her, but now the only one to know was Hoffman himself in the worst way possible. But still she felt as if he was hiding something deep away from her, locked away within the dark recesses of his mind. She had to break him, she had to know what was running through that brilliant brain of his. Either by consent or force, she had to know. She locked eyes with the older detective, trying to read what was unseen on the outside. She could clearly see the terror he held down but it just kept rising up to be uncovered. "Are you, scared?" She pressed on, a hidden fear within herself as well. 

"No." Hoffman called coldly, a sharp jabbing reply, pacing slowly as he made his way around, covering the room as he stared off into the dusty darkness, unwinding as he took a few quiet steps towards the door, close, but still far away. Crossing his arm's the taller detective eyed the other, a look of sorrow and apathy, but also resentment, it was hard to tell, almost impossible. "I'm disappointed." He snarled, an anger and grit to his expression as his hands furled beside him. Disappointment. Why, him, of all people was disappointed with her, they both had dirt, hidden secrets and unneeded demons, they both were at fault. "Disappointed that you would lie to me, hide shit like this, from me, of all people." Hoffman barked, tone rising an octave as he fought against what to say and what to express. "I should of expected it." He added sharply as he trotted for the door, hand firm on the handle as he prepared to exit, feet placed firmly as he awaited a final confirmation. 

"Hoffman, please, don't leave." She protested, quickly making her way over, grabbing his wrist in protest. "I can explain." She croaked out, eyes sad and swollen as they focused on Mark and his unfazed expression. 

"Oh, please." Hoffman called sharply, tugging his wrist from her grasp as he moved for the door, a bubbling anger surfacing as he spun on his heels, a sudden jolt of ignorance and pity, a mixed swirl of emotions he could barley manage to control. "I've heard enough, (Y/N)." He spat with malice, a sharp edge to his words as he dusted off the sleeves of his expensive suit, a hitch to his words, a tug of muscle as he ran his fingers through his own hair in an attempt to relieve his own stress. "Explain it to John, I bet he'd love a second opinion from his favorite daughter." Hoffman barked, a nip as he bit at his own lip to keep feelings and words at bay. With a turn he began on his path, walking towards the door, turning the handle as he shot into the small hallway with little to no effort. "I think it's best if you avoid work for a while, avoid me." He finished, face and eyes hidden as he kept his back to her, with a step forward, he left, trotting through the hallway before turning the corner, vanishing yet again as he left her alone, standing, door wide open as she tearfully wished for his return.


	6. Entry Six

John Kramer, the all mighty decision maker, the player of games and decider of outcomes. A killer, a murderer in differently phrased terms, to himself he was anything but. The world, in his eyes, was different, a labyrinth he held the floor-plan for, a locked vault for which only he held the key. He had power over others, over those close to him, and most importantly, those in contact, in close proximity. He knew how to work others for a profit, he knew how to make others bend to his will, how to break their mind and piece it back together in a way where they, the sufferer, would see him as their almighty god, a savior.

Groggy. Eye-sockets sunken and sore, skin, cold and bitter, a constant chill against panicked skin. The room sat dark, pitch-black, the only audible noise was the hiss and drag of metal, the unconscious wheeze of air from another slumbering victim. Memories. It was hard to remember, he knew himself, his identity, his name, what he didn't know or remember was how he got to be, and where he was, how certain events played out. The stinging pain in his neck was a key clue that something, someone, happened. The air sat bitter, the nauseating stench of blood and rot hovering overhead. It made no sense, the entire situation was an upper-cut, a sneaky jab. Jigsaw. The only reasonable explanation to his location and condition, the only educationally based answer to resort to.

" _Motherfucker_." Mark cursed, wiping a thumb across his bottom lip to smear a trail of trickling crimson, blood, from where, and why, he had no clue, no idea as to why he sat wounded and beaten. The bitter taste of copper held his tongue hostage as his mind and thoughts whirred from the assault previous. Restraints bound him, rattling chains that replied in unison as he felt out his surroundings, his condition. "You **_fucking_** backstabber!" He barked, pulling at the chains that bound his hands, a angry tug of sheer malice, a nip to his words as he fought his bindings, a fight he was quick to loose as the room came alive. A whir to the piping, a current of electricity forcing the foggy clouds of darkness into non-existence. A churn to his stomach, a sick look of regret and misery as he noticed a familiar figure slouched in the corner bearing the same exact bindings and wounds. (Y/N).

Her conciseness faded in and out, her surroundings blurry from being out for so long. How did she get to her current location, why was she there? As her eyes slowly began to adjust to the newly lit dim lighting of the confined room, she realized where she was. Panic slowly began to settle into her veins as labored breaths left through her lips, looking around the room she attempted to figure out a way to rationalize. In the middle of her searching her eyes met the all too familiar one's of Mark Hoffman, causing her speeding heart to sink. Swallowing the lump in her throat she turned her eyes quickly away from his piercing gaze. Her head began to pound painfully as if someone had started to viciously beat it. Reaching forward she held onto it in pain, a way to try and sooth it. The arising clink of metal drew her attention, once she saw the chains, realized her predicament, panic began to set into overdrive.

"Officer (Y/N)?" Hoffman questioned, eyeing her state, attention keen as he ghosted his attention over the array of bruising and chains that held her hostage. John Kramer's daughter in a trap of his own doing, his own making, it was sick, sick and twisted as to why he would even resort to it, to why he would put his own blood in danger, just for a possible understanding, just for hoping that maybe something would come out of it, that something would be of value, be learned. It was unfathomable, Mark, himself in peril, was understandable, he was an accomplice, a helper, he expected this, his existence snuffed out to erase his wrong-doings, to erase his history, his files, backed up and hidden away, it was a way to start over, to dupe the FBI and countless other counterparts of the department, he could connect the dots, see the reasoning, but her, it made no sense, it was unlike him, unlike John, unlike Jigsaw. "You kidnapped and drugged your own daughter?" He barked, tugging sharply at his restraints as he dragged himself to his feet, metal dull against his bones as he eyed the room around him. The lightly flickering screen of the old T.V. in the distance, the smudged messages of hierarchy carefully painted on the walls, the specific placement of cameras and tools, the carelessly tossed key shimmering on the tiles of the cement floor adjacent, the set-up.

"Why?" She questioned, hot tears streaming down her dirt and blood streaked face as thoughts whirred within the confines of her head. How her own father could betray her, mind racing with thoughts of what she had possibly done to wrong him but failing to pin-point it, she failed to see what her father saw. Shaking her head she tried to stand up, her shoes absent from her feet, her skin making contact with the cold floor that was plastered with dried blood, dirt and other substances that were unknown to her. " _Me_ , what have _I_ done, what did _I_ do to you?" She questioned to herself, the camera's she knew John was watching, a tug to her restraints as a broken voice ghosted her lips.

The nearby T.V. crackled, pixelating as a familiar image filled the monitor screen. The chaffing wooden face of the infamous doll, the outlet, the speaker for John Kramer himself, a game, a dubious ploy he used to terrify his victims, the last face for many, the last image to be seen before eradication, before a long and drawn out game, before the end. Throats tight, balling nervousness as the two stood, one in a swirling rage, a panic replaced with rational feelings and actions, and the other, a mess, crying, shaking at the outcome of her situation, attention turned to the screen as a whimpering grit echoed, a crackle of current as a voice gravitated, clawing off the walls of the cement prison the two remained within.

**Two disciples united by blood. One, a relative, a daughter, a child. The other, a friend, an ally, a rat, a traitor.**

The words echoed overhead, the nauseating description of union, the harsh and raspy voice of Jigsaw. Like an intercom, the words boomed, echoing sentences that lingered, left behind pieces that sat for the listener to piece together. A familiar message of description for the victim to decipher.

**Mark Hoffman. An FBI Detective turned traitor, a muse, an apostle, victim, prey. To the truth, to reality and everything it offers. (Y/N). My blood, my life, my livelihood. There must come a time for trial, for the true test of will and resurgence, a time to prove your family value to the one who raised and nurtured you. Now is that time.**

The description, the sentence drew a line of fear down her spine, a visible shiver to her figure as the two connected eyes momentarily. Still, the scene sat silently, the two still reeling from the day, night previous, the fight, the argument that led them to where they sat now, the two ultimately separated in a time where their survival depended on connection, a mesh.

**Before you is an abyss of chaos and bloodshed. A path of your own choosing, a decision you both must ultimately make and decide on. A path you must trek together, prey in the captive eye of the predator.**

**To encourage successful collaborative team-work I've included a winning benefactor, the prize of a antidote, a cure for the coursing poison currently thickening the bloodstream flowing through your veins.**

The reveal was of no shock to Hoffman, but to the other it was catastrophic, her mind reeling as she gripped her face, temples massaged as her head lowered to mumble incomprehensible sentences. Innocence lost to the foul truth, John Kramer, a father and parent she once trusted, a man she kept safe, kept off the radar, now turning on her.

**Within your person is a deadly nerve toxin, Sarin. A flu is initially developed, leading to respiratory system collapse, and then the downfall of every bodily organ, the ultimate defeat. I've taken the choice of harvesting and developing a specific strain of Sarin that quickens the oncoming catch of these symptoms, giving you both a collective six hours to navigate and feud over the winner of the antidote. Play by the rules, rely on each other, be the victor. (Y/N), make me proud, prove your worth, destroy the man you love or die trying.**

The connection fizzled out as the last spoken sentence hung in the air, a silence enveloping the room as two pairs of eyes met, green and brown merging and mixing, an oasis of color mixing as contact was discovered and abandoned, the cycle continued. Silence. The only other audible noise was the nearby LED panel flicking on, an array of bright red numbers providing a blinding light and time. 5 hours, 59 minutes, the clock ticks.

She let everything slowly sink in, the realization that her own father, flesh and blood, had put her into one of his sick and twisted games to try and rehabilitate her. Stepping forward her feet ached, the cold flooring stinging her skin as she began to search for an escape, a tool to unlock her from her shackles. She had to work with Hoffman, she had no choice. She was scared, terrified. She never realized she would feel so broken about someone so shattered, the man who had teased her so much, the man who made her feel things no other had done before, a man she loved but refused to enlighten.

" _Mark_." She spoke softly, the first time using his name since her awakening. "On your side, is there anything we can use?" She beckoned, questioning the man adjacent as she attempted to slow the rising panic flowing through her veins, a buried fear quickly burrowing as her mind raced, her thoughts and memories.

"Oh, _most definitely_." Mark hummed sarcastically, an echoing whine in his voice, his tone, a swallowed anger. Scanning the room it sat unbearable, a swampy fog of decay and deterioration, crumbling cement littering the floor, broken glass and cracked tile, the room was in shambles, a collection of chains enveloping the room, an abandoned pile of brackets one used, now sat to rust, blood, a heavy collection of crimson staining the abandoned metal. "An _escape route_ , right here next to a _color-coded map_ and the cure for _Sarin_." He added with an unbearable eye-roll and a teasing tone of annoyance. Hands furling together as he rubbed a pair of fingers over an agitated temple, a curl to his movements as he tugged at his bindings, a hiss of metal against the frostbitten tile as he worked silently. Words echoing even after he had succumbed to the silence, words lost among the bitter chill of the dampened, sewer-ridden cell they sat within, a singular glimmering object sat adjacent, slicked with grime, almost invisible, unreadable, eager eyes ghosted the object, attentive on it's location.

"Now is _**not**_ the time for humor, I need your cooperation, we need it." She passionately barked, a buried anger that she attempted to hide as she questioned the man before her, she noticed he was near it, but failed to determine how close he was to the tool they needed. Eyeing the object, she questioned him. "So, do you think you can reach it?" She asked, raising her gaze to him, green orbs leaving behind embers, burning as if they could see right through her form.

"And help you survive, help you get to the antidote, help you **fuck** me over again?" Hoffman questioned with an echoing bark, a brutal anger ghosting from his lips as green slits eyed the other. Truth finally brought to light as the room fell uncomfortably silent. Leaning forward, the key was plucked free, pulled from the filth of the cement floor, metal tool raised to the light as he held it in a pinched grasp. Grated teeth brought to torn fabric, wiped free as the other eyed him curiously. "You heard him, only one of us can survive, and his bets are on you, love." He added with a raised brow, eyes ghosting the room as he slinked a loose grasp to the chain binding his ankle. Nerves running amok as they two internally panicked, Mark, for his life, his survival, and (Y/N), for her emotions, her feelings, her truth. Twenty minutes down.

"I'm suggesting a plan to benefit us both, **_Hoffman_**." She hissed, the familiar name a sharp weapon on her tongue as she pressed her hands to the cold floor, mind racing. Quickly looking to the clock above on the wall before she looked back to the man who held the key to near escape, the tomb that she did not wish to be hers. "It if helps, makes you feel better, unlock yourself first." She suggested sarcastically, turning her gaze away from him with an eye-roll, a buried panic as skin-plastering sweat drenched her skin, a searing hot fear burned her flesh. She was trying so desperately to keep her hidden feelings buried beneath the underlying panic surrounding the scenario, she did not want Mark to know, herself to know, realize how she truly felt.

The clinking churn of metal echoed within the room, speech abandoned as the lock was attended to, brisk clasp focused on as the small metallic tool was forced into the slim keyhole, slab abandoned as he tossed the weapon of escape to her, an echo of clattering reassurance as both the key, and binding chain, rattled to the cold cement floor. Manicured fingertips handling the abandoned key as Hoffman scrambled across the room, kicking free of his bindings as he rubbed at the sore skin left behind. Eyeing her, he paused, awaiting movement as he refused to leave her behind, carefully watching he surveyed the way she planned her escape. The signifying beckoning of the second abandoned chain clued in his curiosities, eyes attentive as he watched her in her state.

"Look, I'll get you through this." Mark commented with a tired sigh, eyeing her carefully as he watched her rise. Standing from the floor as the rattling chain suffocated in her grip. A sigh of relief, a confused, twisted, and butchered concept of reality forming within the recesses of her mind as she slinked away from imprisonment. Bare feet cold against the wet floor as she stood beside him. "Take my place at the department, clue the FBI in on my disappearance ASAP." He added with a masked tone, he was serious, she could tell, but something, something wasn't right. Taking the key from her grasp, he pocketed it, perhaps for later use if the issue arose, silence was the only audible noise as Hoffman was reluctant to speak. "Keep all and any files on you, me, on the back burner." Mark ordered, eyeing her as he smoothed a flat palm over the material of his dirtied suit jacket. He was serious, he was protecting his title, his label, his job that she would soon take, and ultimately, he was protecting John. "Do I make myself clear, (Y/N)?" He finalized, engulfing green orbs eyeing her state as he awaited a proper reply, a proper answer.

"And accept defeat?" She questioned, eyeing Mark's state as she stepped forward, uncomfortable with his sudden loss of motivation and want, surely he would come out superior, or perhaps, he didn't want to. "How we perceive is how we fail, I've learned a lot from him, I learned that games can be won." She pandered, shaking her head in protest as she looked up at the taller male hovering over her, a serious gaze as he took in her surroundings. He was confused, still uncertain if his trust and choice of reason was reciprocated, but still, he agreed, nodding solemnly as he brushed at the dust lining his attire. "John's not always right, you know." She announced harshly with a sharp interjection at the camera's lingering above, she knew he was listening, attentive on every room or situation they faced. "So let's win." She called with some sense of security, a faked persona of seriousness that masked a hidden uncertainty and fear. Hoffman could tell, but he could also sense the seriousness in her words with the way she eyed him.

Sliding away from the room the two vanished, moving from one room to another with a steady and cautious gaze, Mark, alert and on his feet, watching the space around him if he was needed to detect, to eye a harmful predator before she could, back and forth, a constant nod as he ordered her around, when to stop and when to go, differing expressions with his beaten and battered appendages, fingers moving to alert and lead her silently. Another hall, another corridor of darkness. Wet. The constant dribble of cold water, abandoned pipes dripping stale water, drenching old cement tiles, left to rot, left to the elements. The shutter and hiss of rusty tools and reconciled weapons, unseen tools left, hidden. Turning the corner Mark continued to lead, bare feet stopping before a wooden pedestal as he forced a hand back to pause your movements, to stop you mid-step without hassle, grip lingering momentarily before he let go, attentive green eyes ghosting over the display. Bloody sentences explaining, leading, controlling. Before the two sat a metallic collecting of sharp puzzle pieces, razor-sharp edges clinking together as a whirring cog controlled a display board below, a place for the pieces to rest, stepping forward, she reacted, prying the small tape recorder free from the clutches of a ragged cloth as she prepared herself for the upcoming message.

**There are no extra pieces in the universe. Everyone is here because he or she has a place to fill and every piece must fit itself into the puzzle.**

Whirring into consciousness the tape began, the familiar tone of John Kramer echoing throughout the small space the two stood within. Bugging eyes sore and bruised, tired limbs carelessly shifting weight back and forth as the two awaited the key explanation, the piece of information that would help them move forward.

**Springs control the box before you, wired, rigged to explosives that will detonate once the small time frame is met. The key to escape is the blades before you, specially and specifically crafted puzzle pieces.**

Slowly, the clues rolled in, explanations pieced together as the two examined the situation before them, the metallic puzzle pieces, the carefully carved wooden box, frayed wires and blinking buttons. With a shift, the walls changed, pushing the two closer to the contraption, cutting off all outside access, closer to the trap, the ruse, the explosion, the one escape sat in John's explanation, his words.

**Allotted time is provided, use it well. Once you succeed you will be freed and allowed access to pass. Every blade requires a sacrifice, an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, what will you give up to escape, what will you lose to win?**

The droning message screeched to a halt, pausing as the last words spoken sourly ghosted in the hovering air, the truth coming to light as nervous eyes ghosted over the table, the tight space cutting off the little access to air they had, wheezing breaths as the two closely stood, (Y/N), a curve to her movements as a nauseating panic set into overdrive, and Mark, hands furled forward, a curious stare to the glimmering blades that lingered below.

"Hoffman." She vocalized, a sickness starting to slowly settle in her stomach as she looked at the deadly machine. The closeness was agonizing, the suffocating space the two stood trapped within, she watched Hoffman trace over the contraption. " _Think_ , do you have any ideas?" She questioned nervously.

Palms connected with bitter icy wood, hand pressed firmly, flat to the surface as a churning sickness settled into the deep recesses of his stomach, a nervousness. Pain was of no issue, usually, solemness was something he counted on, never truly feeling, reacting, never letting his emotions best him, after her, his sister, her death, the loss, he couldn't, emotions proved worthless. Lowered. Thoughts and ideas whirred within, a never-ending acceleration.

"You want blood?" Hoffman questioned, overlooking the room momentarily as he readied himself, a stance of terror as he cocked his head to search out the normal addition of cameras and audio equipment, someone was watching, they always were. Filling his palms he pooled out the collection of blades, lining them up in his grasp as he hovered the thin equipment over his fingers, a way to cheat the system, a way to get out intact, in a sense. " _I'll_ give you blood." He ushered, slamming the razors down with deadly precision. The audible crack of thinned bone and gushing blood was nauseating, crimson trail staining the wood below as blood pooled over the metal tools, bone marrow lodging the blades in place. Screaming. The mouth it belonged to was anybody's guess, a shrill echo of terror as grunting breaths passed from blue-tinged lips. Forcing his weight, they separated, pointer and middle, fingers removed as they clattered to the table below. With a hazy step backwards, the blades were abandoned, rattling to the metal box they once belonged to, blood dyeing the clean steel pedestal that geared forward, locking the pieces in place with a dissatisfying groan. Gushing blood dyed his shirt-front as he collapsed, folding into a ball, weathered remains of sanity as he clutched his newly gaping wound, red, the only color that always seemed to linger and remain.

She covered her mouth, sickened from the sudden unfolding of actions before her. Tears began to brim in her eyes as she watched Hoffman's body curl on the floor below, pain shaking through his form. She hesitated for a moment as she looked back to the puzzle in front of her, a choking breath leaving her throat. But no matter, they had no choice but to keep going. Peeling himself from the crimson riddled floor, he jolted, a sheered nerve of pain down his spine as he attempted to push further, clothing bitter and damp as he fought against the searing pain that ghosted the area where his fingers once sat. A meaty reminder left behind as cracked bone and slabs of flesh lingered, hanging loosely as he clasped at the gaping area, desperate and demanding as he forced cold fingers over his shaking palm. Leaning against the wall he shot her a desperate glance, a deep pain swimming through his retinas as he watched her step forward, a helping hand as she pulled him up, stopping mid-way as the two collectively choked on the coursing poison, blood ghosting taste-buds as the deep-settled toxin worked effortlessly to destroy, time ticking away, a gag, a gasp of foul air as bile arose, splashing across the tile below as the two slouched, clawing fingers using what little strength they had to search out the door. Pushing the metal frame away as they tumbled forward, ducking into the next room as the explosives detonated, shaking the now locked door behind in place, a gust of hot air forced from the seams as an echoing hiss lingered. For now, death had been misguided, allowing for escape, for now. A sickening cough left her, blood a constant splatter on the cold tile floor below. A shaking hand lifted to her lips and she wiped away the remaining blood. She looked around for some sort of way to stop Hoffman's bleeding, looking to her shirt she ripped off a piece and began to tend to the wound the best that she could manage.

"You helped me through, you saved me." Hoffman realized with a hiss, teeth clenched as he watched her work around his wounds, flayed fabric wrapping around his fingers, quick to change hue as blood effortlessly poured, a loss of color to his face as he fought against the ghosting grit of pain. Trust was a under-weighted or perhaps, over-weighted concept in the eyes of the victim, the players, the pieces, continuing on without abandonment, was a huge deal, a usual, but not for Mark, not for (Y/N). Eyeing her he paused, turning to search out the time before proceeding to speak. An hour had passed, a pain-fueled hour of loss and blood-shed. Jutting forward he brushed a patch of hair from her face, plastered from sweat and panic, pushed aside as he curled the cluster together behind her ear. "Thank you for that, (Y/N)." He added with a warm smile, a wince as he proceeded to stare forward as she brought her work to a close.

"It's only right." She revealed, shaking her head in distaste of the sudden change of attitude, from anger to passion, he was a never-ending change of emotions. She smiled slightly and looked up to note his piercing gaze. "Still, I'm surprised I didn't get a more humorous response." She commented with a smile. The kindness was short and sweet, the moment short lived as a familiar static filled the room, the lights began to shine brighter, revealing the rest of the room, she squinted her eyes in response, trying to adjust to the sudden change of lighting.

The room was filled with a sudden fog as a cloud of hazy material floated forward surrounding the two, encasing the room in a toxic smog as air was hard to locate, with a choking rotation the room was searched, the two separated as they scratched tired and sore fingertips along the cold cement walls, eager hands searching for an escape as lungs breathed in the intoxicating drug of unconsciousness. The image of light and security faded as the two swirled in-between realms, Hoffman's quickening footsteps as he pressed in closer, hands firm on her shoulders as he sat her town, eliminating the plausible issue of bodily harm. Wincing at the lingering pain in his fingers as he tightened his grip on her being, sitting beside her he pulled her in, shielding her face from the fumes as he toppled over, fading into darkness as she did the same.

Waking up was a different story, the familiar tug of metal, the hiss of imprisonment as the two groggily shook their limbs, rattling the bindings to reveal a clue, to clearly see what trap they now sat within. Eyelids fluttered open as Mark lolled his head back and forth, teeth clenched at pain still not ceased, clearing his vision he eyed the makeshift metal brace that locked him in place. Braces crudely surrounding limbs as a collection of leading wires held the leg of (Y/N) in place, razor sharp wire, wrapped around her ankle as the leading bindings chained Mark's limbs close to a collection of impending needles behind, filled with unknown fluid as they dripped ominously. Any form of movement shook the entire frame, from simple breaths to small words, with every small jolt the wires tightened. Waking up she tensed, the immediate pain of suffocation on her ankle as she noticed the blue skin below, the frame binding her and the panicked face of the man adjacent. Again, the room flickered, jolting into consciousness as a familiar chuckle filled the air.

**One last puzzle before the escape, before the decision of a lifetime. To gain access both room's require a sacrifice, due to Mark's generosity in the last, blood-shed is required from you, (Y/N). He cannot save you this time, and if he attempts to, infectious needles filled with acid will pierce the main arteries in his back, killing him slowly and leaving you forever bound to me, to the game.**

Again, another truth, nauseating and irritating as the whole picture was revealed, crooked necks taking in the similar image of the hell they both shared. Sharp, short breaths taken in order to avoid toying with the bindings below.

**The shedding of blood, the loss of a limb will reveal the exit and supply you both with the key for escape. Again, you must work together, rely on each other, you must first experience true pain to experience true love.**

Silence. The message fading in and out as the two listened, reeling from the smog that slowly seeped away, the unconsciousness of sleeping gas used ever so expertly to put them asleep, to put them down under, with a sizzling hiss, a sound echoed from behind, a whine of pain as blood trailed from the still gaping loss Mark had endured, bandages soiled and ruined as a collection of droplets formed on the cement below, a pinch to his flesh as he attempted to control it.

**To ensure effective teamwork and movement, wired electromagnetic sensors hold you both hostage, 100 volts of electricity waiting to channel through your being if the allotted time is not met, killing one and abandoning the other. Work it out, beat the clock.**

Fizzling out the message lingered, the last message, the last trap, the final game to play in order to escape, in order to retrieve the antidote and survive, a decision neither wanted to make, but ultimately had to. With a churn of entrapment, she clutched herself, tears streaming down her face as the burrowed panic was no longer able to be sheathed. A sharp pain traversed through her nerves as tears streamed down her face. She was scared, afraid of what was about to happen. Panic and strife flooded her mind, thoughts racing by with every breath she took. Suffocating wires held her flesh hostage, threatening to tear away her limb from her body and spill blood, she tried to calm her shaking breaths and haywire emotions as Hoffman watched her with an expression of pure fear, he had lost something and now it was time for her to lose something as well.

"Wait, wait!" Hoffman echoed, writhing in defense as he fought against the phantom pain holding his injured hand captive, a clench of panic as he focused his eyes on the women beside him who writhed uncontrollably, her actions causing a tug on restrains, forcing the curve of Mark's back to jolt backwards and graze the deadly needles, green eyes emotional and weary as he firmly spoke to catch her attention. She paused mid-sob, turning her attention to the other with reddened cheeks and tear-stained skin, wheezing through dry lips as she drew a gust of breath, for now, she was attentive, distracted as she awaited a second response, a clue, any hint of an idea that Mark could possibly offer. "Calm down. I need you stay calm for both of us." He responded, lolling his wrists carefully as he eyed the contraption below. A slow tug that drew a groan of panic, razor-sharp wiring slicing her skin, drawing blood that trickled down her blue-tinged toes, altogether he stopped, worried and weary eyes watching her pained expression.

" _ **Excuse me.**_ " She gritted, screeching in agony as a scream ripped through her throat, a stinging pain she could not bear, a pain too unbearable. She tried to focus on Hoffman's soothing voice the best that she could manage but ultimately failed had failed, turning her attention to the panicked male beside she sucked in a deep breath. "How in the _hell_ do you expect me to stay calm when I need to cut off my own _**fucking**_ foot?" She questioned, a malice in her voice mixed with pain and panic, a shiver to her form as she grew nauseous with the truth.

"Then get the _**fuck**_ to it!" Hoffman barked, a flare of his nostrils as he grew agitated with the carelessly you displayed, the utter anger and loss of emotions, downfall of control. A beading sweat trickled down his forehead as he contorted his shape to avoid the impending needles behind him, a panic buried deep beneath as he fought to keep his focus, his strength. The two were both quickly descended, falling prey to the madness that John had crocheted together, victims to the game, the ploy that Kramer kept an oath to. "Keeping my patience is _**fucking**_ pointless if you can't manage the same." He hissed, tugging at his restraints as he overlooked his bindings with a grit of helplessness as his hand ached, a panicked sweat pooling over his blooded and bruised skin as he fought.

"Just _**fucking**_ do it." She wheezed as she stared at him, his booming voice still echoing in her ears as he returned the same gaze. Tears continuing to flow down her face as the wires continued to cut at her flesh. She was slowing giving up, giving up on everything because of the lack of escape. Tearing her gaze away from Hoffman's she caved, accepting the horrific reality of her predicament. "The pain, I _can't_ bear it anymore." She groaned, a writhe of pure agony as she lost all hope, replaced with the swarming feeling of pure acceptance, a breakdown.

"Just know." Hoffman began, pulling his wrist back as far as he could manage to avoid the constant strain on her flesh, a gap, a wave of air that was short lived as an aggravating ticking echoed overhead, the clock, the electricity, time was fleeting. A dull ache encompassed Mark's hand, the all too familiar tug of pain that replaced the fingers that once sat below, a pain that he quickly grew accustomed to, turning his attention he eyed her, the tear-streaked skin of her cheeks, the red hue of anger and agony, and the slowly trickling trail of crimson that had unconsciously began to collect on the floor below. "I would never hurt you, (Y/N)." He revealed, a release of emotions, feelings as he faced her completely, an aggravated tug on his restraints as he let a shaky breath pass through his chapped lips, a nip to his skin as he lolled his eyes. "I've hurt a lot of people and lost too many to count, but you." Mark paused, a squint as he pushed back his feelings, the emotions that now flowed freely, the reality. "I couldn't, I wouldn't." He retorted with an arising silence, a dull tug that returned the favor with a razor-sharp slice of flesh, the ooze of blood as he choked on a gasping groan, a beg, a plea as he turned his eyes away from her. "But I have to." Hoffman cried out duly, a change, a true wave of emotion that she had finally seen, her mind, distracted and engulfed, fighting the tsunami of pain that held her hostage. "For us." He croaked out, the final straw, the last sentence spoken before the catastrophic outcome of John's game. 3 hours left, a scream arises.

"I'm ready." She revealed with a calm breath. Ears attentive on the words he spoke, listening to his words that caused her heart to flutter, hearing that from him meant so much to her that the agonizing pain was almost ignored. She mustered up the courage and gazed upon the man before her, the man that she loved. She looked down to her discolored foot, blood painted across it and staining the tile flooring below, she took a deep breath and closed her eyes awaiting the upcoming fate of her being, her and Hoffman's. "It's now or never." She choked out, a fake visage of confidence in her moment of terrified agony.

"I'm sorry." Hoffman began, gripping the contraption with his injured hand, a masked expression of anxiety, eyes attentive on her form as he watched her take a few panicked breaths. Eyes fearful and damp, tears continuously pouring as she bit at her lip, tensing her form and preparing herself, it was time, even if neither wanted to, it had to be done, to continue, to win, to live. " _I love you._ " He admitted, a low and gravely tone as he yanked with a sharp and dull jerk. Flesh, torn and shredded, skin flayed as the wire effortlessly detached her limb, caught and stuck around the centering bone momentarily before Mark responded with a collection of quick tugs. Pooling blood, a puddle of crimson, splashing and pouring, an assemblage of sludge staining the cement tile. Echoing screams left her throat as she writhed against the torture, the harsh reality causing her eyes to roll back. Disconnection, with a final wrench the bone snapped, diluted from her form as her screams transcended into gurgling gags, the room covered in a thick splatter as Hoffman released, hand collapsing to his side as tears streaked his tan cheeks, limbs free as metal detached, shackles and restraints unhinged, contraption powering down as the two were thrown to the floor, free, at last.

A scream continued to rip through her throat, pain shooting through her nerves as tears rolled down her cheeks. Heavy panting caused her body to heave heavily, limbs shaking as she rolled on the cold cement floor below. Ushering forward he reacted, slouching over as he pulled his weight up, injured hand all but forgotten as he fought the pain to help another. His limbs curled around the shape of her form as he heaved her into his arms, a bridal-style esque slouch as she laid in his grasp. Sliding away from the grime-slicked floor he moved, planting firm-set feet against the cement as he tiredly pressed on, exasperated and exhausted. Fingernails. Sharp and finely trimmed, blue-tinged fingers gripping onto the fabric of his suit as he painfully moved. An attempt to refuse contortion to avoid strain on her injuries, but ultimately failing as he noticed her pained facial expression. Shifting, no matter the position she still groaned, tired and hoarse screams escaping her lips as they boiled down to inaudible noises. The final room, the final choice, the escape, the exit of which only one had a chance, the excuse to be excited and overjoyed at the thought of potential release. Elbowing his way through the room, he exited, from one to another as he slowly hobbled into the foggy and shadowed room before him, hands firm on her sides as he shifted her weight, eyes noticeably eyeing a set of cement stairs as he recalled the disarray of the room. With an effortless heave he placed her, tired and bloodied atop the cold stone as she leaned against the wall adjacent with a pained moan.

"At least he was honest about the antidote." Hoffman teased humorlessly, a cold chuckle escaping his lips as his eyes shifted to the presentation of a pristine and crystal-clear glass container, inside, a single syringe, contents ominously unknown as it lolled to the side. The echo of noise shaking the object as Mark approached it, feet firm on the floor as he ducked his palms inward, fingers curling around the glass syringe as nervous hands fought to hold on, shaking nervously as the thought processed. " _ **Now**_ , we decide." He mumbled, a tone almost unrecognizable as he quietly spoke, lips pursed, nervous and nauseous as he tapped his nails along the edge of the tool to escape that sat in his grasp.

Still shaken from the event prior, her eyes drifted to Hoffman, who's eyes intently stared at the syringe within his grasp. Heaves of air continued to pass through her lips as sweat poured down her face, causing her hair to frizz and stick. The bleeding continued, once a steady gush now remained in lingering droplets, due to blood loss her vision blurred, dizziness taking her over as blood steadily left her gaping wound. Her head spun, mind intertwined with thoughts, who would win, who would live, who would be the victor. She was afraid, afraid to lose Hoffman, lose herself, lose the game. A choice had to be made. 1 hour, 30 minutes.

"Take it." She announced, speaking in a whisper as her voice trembled, a slight twang to her tone causing the impression of uncertainty, but she was certain to accept death just so the man she loved, grew attached to, could live. His expression was shrouded, voice cloudy and masked as he overturned the syringe in his grasp, twirling it around as he intently took in her words, her promise, her defeat. "You're here because of me, it's only fair, only right." She added, a painful smog of neglect overturning her thought process, she was upset, obviously, but, still, hiding something, hiding her true feelings, her true reasoning.

" ** _Well_** , that's an offer no one can refuse." Mark chuckled, a cold laughter escaping his mouth as he rolled the glass tube in-between his fingers, fluid within frothing and sloshing as he gripped the tubing with a cold lock, lips pursed, the all too familiar curve of flesh as memories flowed to the surface. A fit of coughs overwhelmed the two, doubling them over as the tool was gripped, held safely, a way to avoid loosing it, dropping it. Blood, dripping out and over as flushed throats ached, a internal grit of torture. Time was running out, the time to solve, survive, submerge. " _ **Well**_ , _almost_ no one." He announced, hands furling forward as he gripped her neck, a slight massage to the skin before he forced the needle in, poking in, ripping through, entering her bloodstream as he quickly moved to empty the syringe of it's contents, a rattle to tools, objects as he pulled the medical equipment free, falling to the floor as Hoffman took a quiet step backwards, a shift, a shuffle as he eyed her, watching her panic, noting the realization in the situation, that she would live, that he would die, that what she wanted didn't matter, that again, he tricked her, saved her, loved her.

Her eyes widened at the realization of his actions, eyes searching his face for an answer as he mirrored her gaze, a weigh of phantom pain ghosting her leg. As she sat, the man before stumbled forward, weak and bloodied as he tumbled into her grasp. Her arms jutted forward, supporting his steadily declining weight as she lowered him down, sat within the space of her hold he seethed bitter air through clenched teeth, a painful wheeze as and pain arose and poison flowed, tears bubbled up as she fought to control the whirlwind of emotion overtaking her thoughts, enveloping her.

"Why?" She questioned, blue-tinged fingers bitter and cold as she clutched onto the fabric of Mark's suit, what once sat clean was now filthy, plastered with dirt and grime as he struggled against the outcome, against reality. Her eyes loomed, swollen and sad as they watched Hoffman with a depressed obsession, attention on his heaving coughs as he spit out the bitter pools of blood, lips a hue of reddened flesh as he sucked in a gust of air. "Why did you do that?" She asked voice cracking with a sense of broken hopelessness, a fear of loss.

"Because I love you." Hoffman paused, reaching forward with a shaking hand, form weak and drained as he ran cold fingertips over the flushed skin of her cheeks, a drum to his fingers as he flashed a tired smile, with sore limbs he reacted, leaning forward slowly to pull her in closer, crimson lips moving to envelope hers, a kiss, a lasting embrace as Mark was reluctant to pull away. The disperse of attention was caused by a wrack of coughs, an added pain as he pulled away to spit out a stringy collection of flesh, blood melded with tissue, the slow outcome of the coursing poison, Sarin. "Because I didn't say it sooner." He finalized, a clutch to his chest as he tried to channel himself, an attempt to control the pain, the slow decay of his own form, the ooze of his insides, eyeing you he fought death, desperate to stay with you even if his body thought otherwise. 30 minutes remain.

"I love you too." She whined, tears falling from her eyes, skin red and puffy as seething tears dropped to Hoffman's face. Pressing her forehead against his the gritting of teeth arose as she attempted to hold back the hiding, threatening screams, sobs daring to rip through her throat. She scanned his eyes as she let his words sink in, where it would forever remain, where it would continuously linger. "God, I  ** _fucking_** love you." She gagged, choking on her hidden guilt, a wish to have voiced her feelings sooner, a wish to turn back time, to tempt fate.

The room fell uncomfortably silent all for the echoing of coughs and the whistle of cries, a chain reaction of collapse as the two fell apart. Mark, his form, blood boiling as the poison fought to exterminate him, to eradicate him completely, skin hot and flushed, a buried sickness he fought to contain. And (Y/N), legs curling closer as she let her head raise, thumbs sliding over the warm flesh of Hoffman's face to wipe at the tears left behind, fingers darting through his greasy locks, a calming drag of fingers as she cupped his head, hands sliding behind to offer a steady support. He was weak, too weak to return the favor, to return the willing touches the other graciously applied, instead he stared ahead, green eyes boring into her form as a eternal sadness was locked between. With a final painful extort of energy he shifted, digging through his pocket to locate the cold metal emblem he searched for, with a grit of agitation he sat back, hand filled with the leather fold, golden badge adornment sitting in his palm. Resting momentarily he awaited recognition, finally handing it forward, cold fingers shaking as he watched her slowly accept. His badge, Mark Hoffman, FBI, a token, a gift, a reminder.

"I want to thank you." Hoffman spoke, his final sentence, words as a pale hue surfaced, time ticked slowly, minute by minute until only seconds remained. Her lap sat weighted, warm from the heat drained from Mark's form, her hands sat steadily overhead as she watched him speak, eyes attentive on his lips as she picked through his sentences. "For being in my life, sticking around." He continued, woozy and groggy, encrypted words hooking her attention as she fought trembling lips, biting the flesh to contain herself, to battle her sadness. "For reminding me that." Mark paused, sentence abruptly halted as he coughed, gagging on the secretion of blood, the heavy suffocation of internal bleeding as crimson trickled from any open source, ears, nose, eyes, an obvious change. "Even _broken_ things can be loved." He finished with a sad smile, his eulogy, his final words as he loudly coughed out his final moments, choking on blood and flesh as he tore his glance away from her teary (E/C) eyes. A surfacing pour of blood, gobs and pools escaping his orifices, green orbs shrouded by death as his head lolled lifelessly around. Finally, the room had fallen silent, the ticking had dispersed, the clock had run out, finally, she was broken. Game over.

A scream ripped through her, right through her throat as she held Hoffman's limp body in her arms. Her body heaving as she continued to freely sob, tears running down her face similar to a running faucet. Cradling him close to her she refused to let go, to let go of the man she loved so dearly. Running a shaking hand along his face she watched as the life fully left his eyes, being. Brushing a thumb across his now pale skin her bottom lip quivered, as she continued to mourn, a painful wheeze as she fought the inner rot of her forcefully removed appendage. She pressed her forehead against his once again, thinking through her last retort.

" _Broken_." She finalized, a wheezing cry seeping out through chattering teeth, eyes attentive on the lifeless body she gently rolled to the floor, pulling her hand out from beneath the cold corpse as she graciously laid him down, fingers trailing to close his eyelids, to put him to rest. "You weren't _broken_ to me." She finished, head lowering to his sheathed chest, laying her weight upon him as she viciously sobbed, echoing cries blocking out the unlocking bracket of the cell door, finally, she was free, but freedom, freedom was far from what she actually craved. For now, she remained, lost, puzzled, broken, the shimmering gold of Mark's FBI badge tight in her grasp as she melted into melancholy.

**Author's Note:**

> A Saw RP turned fanfic created with the help of a friend. Enjoy!


End file.
